The Square Scene, Edward's PoV
by nickyjay
Summary: Taken from New Moon. Speculation on what would be going through Edward's mind before he committed suicide. Dialogue taken from the book. I prefer writing my own, and since I don't have the book anymore any further scenes will probably be my own dialogue


THE SQUARE

Edward had never felt so tired. It wasn't a physical sensation, and in an abstract way this intrigued him. His medical training had him cataloguing the effects of prolonged depression with clinical efficiency, although he could not imagine why. It wasn't as though he would ever have the opportunity to reflect on or use this knowledge. The effort it had taken these last months just to function, just to make it through the next day, the next hour, had finally drained him. He had nothing left, no defenses against the pain that seemed to radiate from where his dead heart lay. He had even stopped breathing because it reminded him too much of the emptiness within.

He had never allowed himself to wonder if this was what Bella felt too. If he had, he would not have been able to stay away. It seemed that he had misjudged, however. The wound he had inflicted on himself had mortally injured her. He knew he should have anticipated that given the nature of their relationship – what more could an immortal in love with a human expect? He should have accounted for it somehow, done _something_ to prevent it, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to imagine she would do such a thing as take her own life. After all, she had promised him she would not do anything reckless.

He understood now, moments from his own death, how simple it seemed. How logical. It wasn't stupid or reckless, it was…relief. Relief from the endless pain, the endless pretense of normality when all he wanted to do was scream and rage at the world for making him what he was.

She had gone where he could not follow, and there was nothing left for him here.

The bell tolled, deafening in the small square despite the crush of the crowds. Several people cried out in protest at the noise. Edward smiled in relief. It was nearly over. If he had believed God was listening to one such as him, Edward would have given thanks at that moment.

Slowly, as though enacting a ritual, he unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off. He let it fall from his hands, the wind briefly catching the fabric so that the white cotton glowed in the sunlight. Just as he would. Idly he looked around at the packed square. He was little more than three long strides from the nearest of the crowds, and he would never reach them. The Volturi's guard would see to that. He could feel them now, poised behind him and above, waiting, utterly focused.

He sighed and shook his head a little, trying to clear it of the many clamoring voices that pressed in from all sides. He didn't want this babble, this constant barrage of violence and inanity. One side effect of his depression was an inconsistency in his ability to screen out the mental voices of those surrounding him. Sometimes all the voices would fade and it would take a supreme effort to find a single clear thought. At other times they would come in unbidden, unwelcome, driving him ever closer to madness. Unfortunately, this seemed to be one of the latter days. He did not want these empty minds accompanying him now.

The brilliance of the noonday sun reminded him of another day in another lifetime, when he had shown Bella the clearing in the middle of the forest surrounding Forks. That day stood out to him still as one of the most perfect moments in his long life. Edward pressed his fingers into the wound by closing his eyes, banishing the brightly lit square and the crowds and picturing her face. Not as he'd last seen it – he never thought of those final days if he could help it – but as she had been that day in the clearing close to a year ago.

He had been so afraid! It almost made him laugh now to think of it, now that his worst fear had come true. He remembered her reaction to seeing him as he stepped into the sunlight, the wonder that had transformed her face. He'd expected fear and disgust at the realization of alieness. What she'd given him had been complete acceptance and joy. It still made his stomach swoop to think of how thoroughly she'd blown all of his expectations out the water and taken their relationship somewhere he had never believed it could go. Somewhere he should never have allowed it to go because the end had been inevitable even then. But how could he have resisted? He was helplessly, hopelessly addicted to her both then and now.

One small part of his mind had been counting the tolling of the clock striking twelve, waiting for the equally deafening silence as it stopped when he would step out into the sunlight. Perhaps he would even feel it on his skin one last time, although he doubted it. As he took a step forward he remembered the absorption with which Bella had examined his glowing skin. It was almost as though he could hear her voice again, exclaiming in wonder…

Somebody slammed into him, someone human by the warmth of the body. He heard the breath leaving them at the force of the blow, although it barely had him pause. So fragile, these humans, he thought with slight irritation at the delay. A moment later her scent hit him, and he knew that it was over.

Savoring the moment, he slowly opened his eyes. Bella. Wide-eyed, sweet smelling, eternally clumsy Bella. He gripped her elbows to steady her and mumbled, "Amazing, Carlisle was right," because having her here with him could mean only one thing. He was in heaven and whole again.

She was saying his name, and her hands pressed against his chest. He could feel how light her body was, lighter even than before, and her face looked gaunt. He reached up to touch her flushed cheek, feeling the near feverish warmth of her skin against his icy fingers. Her cheekbones seemed unnaturally prominent, her eyes made even wider and darker by deep shadows beneath them. This was a little confusing – surely if she was here in heaven with him, no sign of the ordeal she had recently suffered should be present? And…why were her clothes wet? Impatiently he pushed those questions aside. She was here, that was what mattered.

"I can't believe how quick it was," he told her happily. "I didn't feel a thing. They are very good."

Just touching her skin wasn't enough for him. He closed his eyes again and pressed his lips to her hair, feeling its softness and inhaling her scent. The ravenous, dangerously neglected beast within him howled in pain. Unbidden, the lines from Romeo and Juliet appeared in his memory, so brilliantly did they capture this moment. _"Death, that hath sucked the honey of thy breath, hath had no power yet upon thy beauty,"_ he murmured to her, knowing that she would recognize the quote from one of their last truly happy days together. "You smell just exactly the same as always. So maybe this is hell." Edward turned this idea around in his mind for a moment, and discovered it didn't hurt him in the slightest. Not if she was here. "I don't care. I'll take it."

"I'm not dead, and neither are you!" She cried out, ignoring his commentary, the desperation in her expression completely at odds with Edward's expectations. "Please Edward," she begged, struggling against him once more as he realized belatedly she had been all along, "we have to move! They can't be far away."

Then Edward heard them, the minds of the two Volturi guards sent to do the deed, poised in the alleyway behind him. They both seemed amused by his behavior, but one – Felix, Edward remembered now – was looking at Bella with more than casual interest.

_Damn but I'm hungry,_ Felix thought as he idly speculated on how fast he and Demetri could take Edward down. _She's a little thin for my taste, but she smells good enough to eat from here. That idiotic vampire has lost his mind. What's he doing feeding off animals when he's got perfectly good humans just offering themselves up…_

"What was that?" Edward asked aloud.

Relief flooded Bella's face. "We're not dead, not yet!" She insisted, tugging at his arms. "But we have to get out of here before the Volturi –"

Felix, sensing Edward's change of mood and intent on securing himself the death of an unwanted rival and a good lunch, started to make his move. Awareness of imminent danger slammed into Edward's long-dulled senses. He was too close to the mouth of the alley. It would be far too easy for Felix to manufacture a struggle that would drag him into the light, thus legitimizing Edward's death, and Edward realized that he had absolutely no intention of dying. Not now.

In one fluid movement, Edward turned and dragged Bella behind him, out of line of sight of the stalking vampires. He heard her quiet gasp as two figures appeared to materialize out of the deep shadows within the alley.

"Greetings, gentlemen, but I don't think I'll be requiring your services today," he addressed the now-casually approaching vampires, shrouded in the head-to-toe gray robes of the Volturi guard. Thankful that his voice remained far calmer than he felt, he frantically searched the immediate area with every sense. How many more were there? "I would appreciate it very much, however, if you would send my thanks to your masters."


End file.
